


Coming Together

by Mandaloria593



Series: Ehn - Three [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29790210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandaloria593/pseuds/Mandaloria593
Summary: Luke and Boba find their way together at Din’s side.(Or 5 times Luke and Boba get closer, and 1 time Luke, Din, and Boba all come together.)
Relationships: Boba Fett/Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Boba Fett/Luke Skywalker
Series: Ehn - Three [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189727
Comments: 14
Kudos: 80





	Coming Together

Luke was chatting with Din and Han when his comlink buzzed. He flipped on the receiver, standing up and stepping aside to take the call. “Luke here.”

“Luke.”

Boba was on the other end of the comm. Luke was a little surprised Boba called him and not Din. 

“How would you like to join me on a mission?”

Luke’s interest was piqued. “What kind of mission?”

“A fun one.”

Luke grinned. That could mean anything coming from Boba. “I’m in. Give me the coordinates, and I’ll tell Din. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

There’s a pause. “I didn’t invite Din. I invited you.” 

Luke bit his lip, surprised, and walked further away from Din’s curious gesturing. Did Boba need Luke’s Jedi expertise for something? Something dangerous?

Luke’s concern was not assuaged when Boba added, “In fact, don’t tell him.”

“Why?”

Boba sighed, and Luke could picture him sitting in the cockpit of the _Slave I_ , helmet off, hands dancing over the controls with the easy confidence of familiarity. “This isn’t the kind of thing he enjoys. At least, not lately. But I think you will. As I said, it’s _fun.”_

Luke’s intrigue ratcheted up a notch. He stole a look back at Din, who was still talking with Han about who-knows-what, and decided to take Boba up on his invitation. Luke was rather excited and possibly overeager at the anticipation of some mayhem. Boba left a path of mayhem in his wake nearly everywhere he went. Luke was sure it was only because the Force favored him that he always escaped unscathed. Well, not always unscathed, but alive.

So he excused himself from Din and Han’s company, attributing the need for his absence for a trade dispute somewhere, which successfully caused both men’s eyes to glaze over in disinterest. 

Luke hopped into his X-Wing and flew to the coordinates Boba sent him. Just him. Even if Boba was just calling on Luke for his Jedi abilities, it didn’t stop the small lurch in his stomach, one that warmed him the same way the cadence of Boba’s voice always did. 

Luke landed on a backwater planet somewhere in the Outer Rim. Boba met him at the remote landing area, armored but with his helmet in his hand. “What’s the mission?” Luke asked.

Boba’s teeth flash in a wolfish grin. “Justice.”

When Luke reached for his lightsaber at his belt, Boba stopped him, gently pressing on his wrist. 

“You’re a good shot, right?”

Luke smirked back at him. “I’m an excellent shot.”

Boba passed him a gorgeous-looking blaster. Luke whistled as he gave it a once-over. He held it up to aim and test the weight of it. It was a well-crafted weapon. None of that flimsy standard-issue stock that jammed at the most inopportune time. 

“Come on,” Boba urged. He pulled out another blaster for himself, twin to the one he gave Luke. 

Together they stalked across the marshy field.

As it turned out, the mission was fairly straightforward. They raided the nearly-abandoned warehouse, rounding up a few slavers that had slipped away from previous capture attempts. They were _ex-_ slavers now, or rather, they were about to be. As easy as the operation was, Luke became suspect as to why Boba had called him. 

Once their quarries were tied up and ready to be deposited on the _Slave I,_ Boba started plucking chargers off his belt. He placed a few on the walls of the warehouse and tossed a few to Luke. 

“When was the last time you got to blow something up, other than the first Death Star?”

Luke laughed and affixed the chargers where they needed them. 

Luke joined Boba on the _Slave I,_ sliding into the co-pilot’s seat. Boba let him activate the remote chargers. From their safe distance, they watched the explosion of the former slave den.

“Wanton destruction,” Boba murmured, modulated tone teasing, as if Luke had specifically ordered it off a menu. He supposed he sort of had. Boba began flipping knobs and punching buttons to prepare the ship for launch. 

Luke couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face. He was loath to go back to his X-Wing. He glanced over at Boba, when the thought struck him. “Was this a date?”

Boba just tipped his helmet at him as he keyed in the hyperspace coordinates. 

Regretfully, Luke stood up and trailed his fingers along the back of Boba’s seat and along his armor. “Race you to the way station?”

“You’re on, mir’sheb.”

Luke chuckled. “I think it’s pronounced _mesh’la.”_

Boba didn’t turn around, but his playfulness colored his presence in the Force. “I said what I said.”

Later, when they reunited with Din at about the same time—the X-Wing just beating _Slave I_ by seconds—they received raised eyebrows. 

“What have you two been up to? You look suspicious.”

“Just took my Jedi friend on an errand,” Boba answered. “Don’t you worry your pretty head about it.”

Din grunted, unplacated. But he mellowed under Boba’s expert fingers when Boba started massaging his scalp. Luke admired Boba’s strategy.

****************

Luke was sick. It was some kind of sinus infection that made the Jedi’s head stuffy and his body weak. Boba found himself playing the role of nursebot. 

He nudged the door to the bedroom open with his hip and strode in with a tray of noodle broth. He took in the Jedi’s position tucked in the bed with the covers pulled nearly up to his nose. 

Boba set down the tray and sat on the edge of the bed. He touched Luke’s cheek with the back of his hand and found it too clammy for his liking. “No so invulnerable after all,” he mused. 

Getting to know Luke on a personal level was eye-opening. He’d always viewed the Jedi as either mystical quacks or, worse, enemies to be hunted down. Luke was certainly odd, but he was not an obstacle any longer. He was a...friend. An ally. And, because Din always got his way, he’d become something more than either of those things. Boba found he didn’t mind caring for the Jedi. For Luke. Boba could only marvel at his own change of heart. It was humbling to know he still had the capacity for that. 

“That better be soup in your hands.” Luke’s eyes remained closed. 

“It is,” Boba promised, amused at Luke’s demanding tone. It helped that Luke was unbearably cute, sick or not. “But who says it’s for you? Maybe it’s my lunch?”

“Don’t make me destroy you.” But Luke’s nasally threat did not sound very menacing with his sinuses all clogged up. 

Boba snorted. “Don’t be a brat.”

“I’m sick. I’m entitled. I don’t deserve to be teased right now.”

Boba turned his hand so that he could brush Luke’s bangs away from his face. He let his hand trail down to Luke’s lips, which were chapped from breathing so much through his mouth. “Hm, are you sure about that? It seems to me that you like it when I tease you.”

“Hmph.”

That _was_ their routine. Boba pushed. Luke pulled. Boba retreated. Luke advanced. Din watched their antics from the sidelines, cheering more for the players than for any particular outcome. Din was generally conflict-avoidant. Boba liked getting a rise out of both of them, but it was obvious that Luke appreciated it more. He’d get fiery and hotheaded and throw his Jedi serenity out the airlock just because Boba hid his laundry or borrowed his saber or locked Din in the ‘fresher when he’d taken a quick break from fucking Luke into the mattress. On that last one, Boba wasn’t sure if Luke had been madder about the interruption or the fact that Boba didn’t offer to step into Din’s spot. The heat in the blue eyes and the way his fists tightened around the sheets made Boba hesitate before executing his plan to fly far, far away from his prank’s consequences. 

Now, Boba said experimentally, “Maybe a bit of teasing from me is exactly what you need to feel better.” 

“Maybe.” Luke’s eyes finally blinked open, and the blue was not as vibrant as it sometimes was. Boba wondered when he started noticing the different shades. Still, Luke’s eyes centered on Boba and he sat up slowly, perking up at Boba’s attention, though it could have just as easily been from the enticing aroma of the noodle broth. 

After getting Luke to take several good sips of the soup, steadying the spoon when needed, Boba coaxed him to sleep again.

He came back later and found Din curled around him. The two of them snoozed quietly. Well, Din slept quietly. Luke, with his illness, sounded like a rusty, broken engine. 

Evidently, Din wasn’t fully asleep. As Boba lurked in the doorway, Din peeked up at him and stretched out his hand, bidding him closer.

Boba took the invitation. There was plenty of room in the bed, and he slipped in behind Din, sandwiching Din between his and Luke’s bodies. 

He and Din shared a brief kiss, and then they snuggled in.

Luke was shifting in a half-sleep. “Wuzz goin on?”

“Everything’s fine. Boba’s here.”

“Mm. Good. Where?”

Luke’s hand awkwardly twisted in the air behind himself, looking for Boba. Boba found the wandering hand and interlocked their fingers, untwisting Luke’s arm so that Boba’s arm draped over Din’s in front of Luke’s chest. 

“You good?” Boba asked Din.

“S’nice,” Din said.

It _was_ nice. They both tried to ignore Luke’s temporary-but-unfortunate snores.

*****************

Boba and Luke’s first real kiss happened in a closet at Solo and the Princess’s apartment. 

Luke said he needed to pick up something there, and Boba accompanied him. But when they arrived, Solo and the Princess weren’t home. 

“We’ll just come back later,” Luke said, preparing to walk away towards the lift.

“We’re already here,” Boba pointed out. He opened a pouch on his belt and retrieved a code cylinder. He placed it on the door’s locking mechanism. The device started whirring and analyzing the lock.

“Boba!” Luke gasped, grabbing Boba’s arm.

“We’re just here to pick up something of yours, aren’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s do that.” As the code cylinder did its job and opened the lock, Boba thought about how this was the best possible outcome, because it meant he’d get to avoid Solo’s annoying face. 

Boba put the code cylinder back in his pocket and opened the door. He stepped in and gestured for Luke to follow, waving his hand in a grandiose fashion like one would welcome a prince. 

Luke relented and followed him inside.

With his enhanced visor, Boba noted the uptick in Luke’s heartbeat and the slightly increased temperature of his breaths. Luke was either mildly impressed with Boba’s breaking-and-entering skills, or he was excited about their illicit adventure. Perhaps both. Boba filed the information away for later.

He tracked Luke’s search of the apartment at first, but became bored when it became clear Luke didn’t know where the thing he was looking for was being stored. Boba began nosing around the apartment. 

He found himself in a spacious closet off the master bedroom. Most everything in it belonged to the Princess, of course. For a moment, Boba wondered if he’d find any outfit similar to the one she’d worn on Jabba’s barge. He was pretty sure he’d find no such thing. He did find a rather lovely jade-green silk scarf with some sort of bells hanging from it. Maybe it was meant to be worn around the hips? He held it up to his own waist just to gage its size. It jingled. 

That’s how Luke found him.

“Boba, I found the…”

Luke’s eyes widened comically, and Boba felt caught, the damned silk scarf around his hips drawing the Jedi’s gaze.

Luke swept towards him in long strides. Before Boba could protest that he wasn’t stealing anything, Luke was drawing the silk scarf tighter around him and shoving him into the rack of clothes, pressing Boba back against the wall of cushioning fabrics. 

They both reached for the clasps of Boba’s helmet at the same time. Once it came off, it thudded to the floor. Luke looped the scarf around Boba in a way that trapped his hands. Luke tugged the material firmly, as if worried that Boba was going to try to escape, escape this, escape Luke. Boba was going to do no such thing. 

He arched into Luke’s touch, and their lips met. They exchanged a few licks and nips at first, testing the waters. And then all pretense at restraint was dropped, and they were making out like foolish teenagers whose guardians might arrive home at any minute. 

Boba wanted badly to touch Luke, but he was still tangled in the ridiculous scarf. He could break out of it, of course, but he didn’t want to damage it. Moreover, he wondered if the illusion of restraint was emboldening Luke or if it was just a happy accident. Under the assault of Luke’s mouth, he also vaguely wondered if bossiness might be a genetic trait, since every Skywalker he’d ever met had wanted something from him. Vader wanted his obedience. The Princess wanted his surrender. Luke wanted...well, he was still figuring out what Luke wanted. But if the hard lines of his body and his plundering mouth were any indication, Luke wanted to _devour_ him. Boba wanted to let him.

They were rutting against each other like the passion that had been simmering between them could not possibly be contained another instant. 

But, terribly or wonderfully, it was only when they heard the sound of Solo’s voice talking on a comlink as he entered the apartment that they both reached the point where they came hard in their pants.

The door to the closet door was yanked open. 

Solo was screaming, “My eyes, my eyes!”

They ran for it, laughing and breathless. 

That evening, Din found the silk scarf, which had been stuck to Boba’s armor. Din was very skeptical when Boba told him he bought it for him. But Luke backed Boba up, voice as silky as the scarf itself as he wrapped it around Din and guided him into the bedroom, bells jingling all the way. 

*******************

Luke peeked at his cards, then threw six more chips down on the table. “I call.”

Boba raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You don’t have much left to lose.”

Luke looked down at himself. Boba was right. He was already down to his undershirt, his undershorts, and one sock. One sock was all he needed. “I’m sure. Call.”

Boba’s ruggedly handsome face broke into a grin that was absolutely predatory. He was still wearing his pants and even a jacket over his tee. Luke had refused to play against him in his armor, though. His armor had, like, a hundred moving parts. Okay, maybe not a hundred, but one didn’t agree to play strip poker against a Mandalorian in a beskar suit. It just wouldn’t be smart. 

Yet even starting from fairly evenly clothed positions, Luke was still losing. Badly. 

Boba had insisted Luke not cheat—and by cheat, he meant use the Force to read Boba’s emotions about his hand. Luke was honoring that agreement, but the results were pitiful. He thought Lando had taught him better than this, and he was never _ever_ admitting the scope of his losses to Han. 

Boba displayed his cards, and Luke groaned. He pried the sock off his ankle and threw it at Boba’s face. Boba wrinkled his nose and tossed it aside, but his shit-eating grin never ceased.

“I still have my shirt,” Luke pointed out.

“Not for long.”

Luke sighed and cut the deck when Boba presented it to him. Had any Jedi ever mastered card tricks? Was there some kind of Force manipulation he could be using on a standard deck that would deal the next cards in his favor? Luke thought not. He’d heard of a Jedi nudging rigged dice to fall in a winning way, something to do with his father’s first trip off Tatooine, but he hadn’t heard about anything with cards. 

Luke peeked at his hand. It was good! But he schooled his face, drawing on his Jedi talents for that at least. He watched interestedly as Boba’s tanned digits flicked out the center cards, one by one. His hands were distracting, large and calloused but nimble on a blaster or during _other activities._ Luke gradually increased his bet. He tried not to raise it too high too quickly in the hopes of making Boba think he only had a mediocre hand. 

“Well?” Boba prompted him once all the center cards were revealed.

Luke made a show of agonizing over his decision. He stretched his arms above his head. Boba wasn’t the only one who could be distracting. Luke knew he’d been successful when Boba’s eyes dilated slightly.

“Ahem,” Boba cleared his throat. “It’s your bet, _Jetii.”_

Luke threw in ten more chips. “Raise.”

“Jare,” Boba warned, rubbing his own chips between his fingers. 

“That’s--?”

“A foolish risk.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose we’ll see soon enough.”

“That we will.”

Boba flung his chips into the pot, calling what he probably thought was Luke’s bluff. “Let’s seem ‘em,” Boba purred. “And then see some more of _you.”_

Luke chuckled as he flipped over his cards. He had a strong hand. He should win. 

Boba flipped his cards over, too. 

Luke stared.

And stared.

Wait…

Was that…

“Oh, come _on,”_ Luke groaned, laying his head down on the table in defeat on top of his good-but-not-good-enough losing hand. “I swear it’s like you pull these winning cards right out of your ass.”

“It’s _your_ ass on the line, Luke. Up, up, off with those shorts.”

Luke made a tsk’ing sound. “I get to pick what I take off, and I still have my undershirt.”

“Take off your shorts and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Well, that sounded tempting. 

Luke brought his thumbs to his undershorts and hooked them in the elastic band. He looked up from beneath his bangs at Boba. “You want these off?”

“I think we both want them off.”

That was true enough. Luke was already getting hard at the thought of seeing where Boba might take this. 

Luke lifted his ass off the chair and shucked off his undershorts, dropping them to the floor. He sat back down and resisted the urge to cover his slowly hardening dick.

“Scoot the chair back,” Boba suggested. 

“Why?”

“Better view.”

Luke asked, “Better view for what?”

“For the show you’re about to give me for my winnings, since you don’t ever have any credits on you.”

 _Oh._ This was somewhat new territory for them. But Luke was into it. He parted his knees and wrapped a hand around his cock. But he stopped there.

“Well?” Boba asked expectantly.

 _Force,_ Luke really wanted Boba to participate. He wasn’t sure he could just sit here and masturbate, even with Boba looking at him with such appreciation. Exhibitionism he could get behind, but he needed a little something to push him over the edge. Something like Boba’s sinfully decadent voice. “Maybe you could...tell me what to do?” As if to hide from having said that, Luke ducked his face to spit into his left palm.

“It’d be my pleasure,” Boba said, his voice low. “I want you to wrap your hand around the base of your cock, then stroke from root to tip. Slowly. Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” Luke breathed, slouching back in the chair even more and bringing himself in hand. He followed Boba’s instructions precisely, freezing the movement of his hand when he got to the rosy tip. 

“Swirl your hand around the tip. Show me how much you want this.”

Luke did so, and he groaned as he felt pre-come already dampening his fingers as he touched himself.

“Good,” Boba told him. “Now go ahead. Show me how you like to stroke yourself when you’re thinking of us.”

Luke whimpered, because he _did_ think of them, both of them, Din _and_ Boba, when he was pleasuring himself in the ‘fresher or his bed when obligations separated them across the parsecs. He started stroking himself in a steady rhythm, stopping now and then to twist his wrist at the head or squeeze his balls. He realized his eyes had fallen closed, and he was missing Boba’s reactions, so he forced them open, pinning them on the dashing man sitting in rapt attention across the room. One of Boba’s hands was gripping his own huge thigh, and it looked like his fingers were digging in hard enough to bruise. Luke gasped at the motions of his own flexing fingers and wondered if Boba’s twitching meant he was barely restraining himself from coming to work Luke over himself.

“Don’t stop, Luke,” Boba urged. “I want to see you come. I want to see you come all over yourself.”

“Not a problem!” Luke stuttered out between moans of effort as he slicked up his hand some more and sped up his fist. “That’s def-definitely gonna happen.”

“I want to see all of you,” Boba said, dark eyes boring into Luke’s, but flicking up and down to take in the rest of Luke’s body. “I want to touch all of you.”

“Yeah,” Luke agreed throatily. “I want you to do that, too.”

“Are you close?” 

He was. “So close.”

“Then show me how you make yourself come. Show me, Luke.” Boba’s voice was so deep and guttural it was almost hard to hear, but Luke was attuned to it like a plucked string on a harp, and his body trembled, muscles taut.

“Ah, Boba!” Luke cried. 

“Come, Luke,” Boba all but growled. 

At the intoned cue, Luke came. He bit back a shout as he spilled into his own hand. His legs quaked then stilled. His pulse pounded in the back of his skull. The arch in his back eased, and he sank bonelessly back into the chair. 

“Mesh’la,” Boba whispered.

Luke shivered. He knew that word. 

Luke’s earlier cry had been quite loud, so he wasn’t entirely surprised when Din wandered into the room. Right after Luke came all over himself, of course. 

Din’s helmet was off, as was most of his armor. He still had his breastplate and vambraces on. He must have just gotten back and been disarming himself when he overhead Luke’s pleasurable shouts—shouts of Boba’s name. 

“I thought you were playing poker?” Din asked casually, leaning against the table. 

“We were,” Boba replied.

“Who won?”

Boba side-eyed him and waved towards Luke’s naked form. “The game is _strip poker._ Can’t you tell who won?”

Din looked between Luke’s satiated form and Boba’s tense one. “Not really?”

“Me, obviously.” Boba gestured to shirt and his pants, which were _really_ tight over his bulge.

Din pursed his lips. “But if you’re the winner, how come Luke’s the one who looks blissed out?”

Boba huffed. “...Point taken.”

Din had an interested look at his brown eyes. Luke realized he wasn’t the only one whose gaze had zeroed in on Boba’s crotch. Din’s tongue escaped his lips before darting back in. Din gestured to Boba’s straining pants. “Need some help with that?” 

Boba barely got out a small “oh yes” before Din had sunk to his knees in between Boba’s legs. 

Luke joined him there. The spoils of strip-poker were well earned. 

Din made room for Luke happily, and the two of them worked Boba over until he came on both their lips. Din spit. Luke swallowed. And then Luke bent Din backwards onto the floor because he was still thirsty.

***********************

Din was away on Mandalore conducting important business, none of which Boba wanted to involve himself in. Boba missed him. He’d been used to being alone for so long. But now? It felt wrong. 

Almost unconsciously, he found himself punching in the trajectory to fly the _Slave I_ to Luke’s Jedi academy. He’d never shown up there alone and for no reason. He was unusually nervous and not entirely sure of his welcome in a haven for the last remaining Jedi and the newest, most vulnerable recruits. His track record with Jedi preceded him. It wasn’t great. 

It was dark when he landed. The middle of the night cycle. Other than the lights marking the landing pad, the other moons in the Yavin system were the brightest things Boba could see. 

A cloaked figure was waiting for him at the entrance to the temple. 

The black-robed shadow raised an unwelcome, unforgotten specter in Boba’s imagination. The fact that Luke was shorter didn’t dispel it. Boba almost expected to hear heavy, modulated breathing. 

Boba was rattled as he stepped from the ramp. Maybe this was a mistake. This is where Luke did all his hokey, mystical stuff. Boba didn’t belong here. 

His feet shuffled to a halt, halfway between his ship and the temple. He was hesitating. He was second-guessing himself, and he hated that, too. Any minute, Luke was going to call out to him and ask what he was waiting for since he’d come all the way here. 

But Luke simply stood there. Luke didn’t do anything except push his hood back and hold out one hand entreatingly. It was the black-gloved one, the cybernetic one, the one Vader chopped off. He was offering it to Boba, like if Boba took it he’d be making both of them whole. 

Boba took a fortifying breath then crossed the rest of the way. He was enveloped in Luke’s arms. “Boba.”

“Sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s fine.” 

It couldn't be fine. It was the middle of the night. But Luke guided him effortlessly, unhurriedly through dark corridors until they arrived at a smaller, equally dark room. From what Boba could make out without his helmet, the room was cozy and sparsely decorated, with a single bed against the wall. 

Luke’s hands came to the catches of Boba’s armor. Together, they worked to get Boba down to his undershirt and shorts. Luke shrugged out of his Jedi robe, and Boba was amazed, scandalized really, to see that underneath Luke was only wearing thin sleep pants and nothing else. Not even socks or boots.

Luke reached for him with the cybernetic hand again, and led him to the bed. They curled up, Boba spooning Luke’s warm body. The sheets were still warm, too. 

Whatever tension Boba was carrying began to seep out of him, like his body was simply rejecting it in favor of something softer. He kissed the junction between Luke’s shoulder and neck. Luke turned in his arms, kissed him back on the lobe of his ear, his neck, and then their mouths were slotting together, hot and slick. Luke’s lips moved lazily, sleepily, like Boba had woken him up from this very bed with his unannounced arrival. Boba desired to make it up to him. But at the same time, he didn’t want to break the hypnotic spell of their quiet breaths in the dark. 

Beneath his hands, though, Luke was waking up. Luke was reaching for Boba, tugging down their pants. They rolled until Luke was on top of him, grinding down, leaving wet patches all over his face with his lips and tongue. 

Boba grabbed Luke’s ass and squeezed, eliciting a moan. 

Boba rolled them over again, this time planting himself firmly between Luke’s thighs. He took them both in hand. Luke angled himself accommodatingly, one heel bracing itself on Boba’s lower back, just about the cleft of his ass.

Boba pulled at their flesh fast and needy. Luke was murmuring his name, and Boba wanted to climax and then sleep for a thousand years. But he needs Luke to come with him. 

“Come, Luke, come for me.” 

And Luke did. Boba didn’t take long after that, eagerly spilling into his hands and onto Luke’s stomach, so that their releases mixed together. 

A few moments passed, which were spent trading lingering kisses. Boba delighted in the sloppy mess. Din, alor bless him, generally insisted on some space right after and a chance to clean off, not one to bask too long in the immediate afterglow. But Luke...Luke was tracing his fingers between their stomachs, swiping up a bit of spunk and bringing it to his own lips. Boba watched, hungry despite what they’d just done. He snatched Luke’s finger away and sucked it himself to steal a taste. Luke whimpered, and the sound made Boba weak. But he was exhausted, and Luke was too. And there was always the morning. 

Luke was wiggling to be let up, so Boba let him. Luke disappeared into the fresher briefly, and then they switched so he could do the same. Then, Luke tucked into Boba’s arms, encouraging Boba to spoon him again. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Boba asked sleepily into Luke’s shoulder.

“If you want,” Luke offered, fingers entwining with Boba’s on his stomach. “I know everything I need to know.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Boba said.

This time, after Boba kissed his shoulder again, they drifted to sleep. 

**********************

They were on a deserted beach. No other sentient life existed for miles. 

Din was still in his full armor, helmet included, leaning against the outer hull of the ship. Luke didn’t badger him about it, and even Boba held back any comment. They both understood that sometimes Din just needed to be all Mandalorian’d up, as Boba put it. 

For their parts, Luke and Boba had stripped down to their black shorts and were whooping and splashing around in the ocean’s shallow waves. 

Boba’s skin glowed. Luke splashed him again, just to enjoy the way the rivulets of glistening seawater dappled his sturdy body. His physical form was almost as alluring as how brightly he shined in the Force, like Din. It wasn’t that either of them could feel the Force, so much as the Force itself shimmered its _approval_ of them, like they were especially endeared manifestations of the life force that infused the universe.

The whole area was darted with tiny private islands. There was a small island not too far from the shore of the one on which they’d landed. 

Luke and Boba seemed to spot it at the same time.

“Race you there,” Luke challenged. 

Boba glared at him fondly then sprang into a swim. Powerful strokes of his arms and kicks of his legs carried him quicker than Luke had expected. Luke dove after him.

The race was on.

Luke proudly reached the island first. He dragged his dripping body up the sandy beach to rest under the shade of a palm tree. 

Boba was right behind him.

Luke found himself with his back pressed up against the tree. Boba’s hard, wet body closed in on his, making contact at every point. Boba laved his neck with his tongue, licking the salt water from him and palming him in his wet shorts. 

Luke was glad they were in the shade when Boba dropped down in front of him, mouthing the fabric clinging to growing hardness. Boba nuzzled his balls and his cock and Luke whined. “Bobaaaa.”

Boba eased Luke’s shorts down, and helped Luke step out of them without tipping over by sliding his hands up each of Luke’s calves in turn. Then, Boba went back to fondling him, now without the barrier of wet fabric between them. 

Hands were soon replaced by Boba’s mouth. 

Luke moaned and pushed his hips forward. Boba pushed them back down easily, setting the pace himself. Luke gave himself up to it.

Boba was _good_ at this. 

Unfairly good. 

The wet, silken heat of Boba’s mouth was incredible. Luke told him so, repeatedly. Or at least, he tried to. What came out was mostly a broken litany of Boba’s name with “good” and “more” sprinkled in when Luke wasn’t gasping for air.

Boba began working an exploratory finger into Luke. 

It was easy going, because Luke was still open from Din fucking him the night before. 

Boba slid his finger in up to the knuckle with little resistance. Luke knew he wasn’t going to last long when Boba’s finger curled and rubbed, hitting a perfect spot that had him keening. He was torn between wanting to push forward into Boba’s mouth or press backwards onto Boba’s finger. Luke tried to do both, and it wasn’t the most comfortable setup with his back up against a tree trunk, but he wouldn’t stop it for anything. 

Boba was sucking and licking him like he was hungry for him. And Luke was so close. “Boba. Boba,” he chanted earnestly in warning, grabbing the back of Boba’s sweat-shined head.

Boba didn’t let up, and Luke’s climax overtook him suddenly, chasing up on him and swamping him with delicious sensation. He surged against Boba, coming in waves like the ocean around them. Boba kept clinging to him, holding him almost to the point of overstimulation. His lips pulled off with a pop, and he laid his cheek on Luke’s heaving stomach. 

Boba was still hard, but Luke needed to catch his breath. He felt, well, _blown._ He laughed a bit at his own inane thoughts, and Boba gave an answering chuckle against his belly button. 

“What?” Boba asked.

“Nothing,” Luke said. “I’m just..an idiot for you, I guess.”

Boba climbed up his body and kissed his neck. “Not an idiot,” he whispered. “A sap, maybe.”

Luke couldn’t resist jibing, “I didn’t know there was anything sappy about enjoying my victory blowjob. I _crushed_ you out there. Who’d have thought the boy from Tatooine would be such a stellar swimmer?”

“Who’d have thought the boy from Tatooine would be crushed under the weight of his own ego?”

They dissolved into more chuckles. Boba helped Luke step back into his shorts. 

“What about you?” Luke prompted, glancing down at Boba’s straining shorts.

“Let’s get back to Din and see how he’s doing.”

Luke grinned. “You can ask him now. Here he comes.”

Luke might have warned Boba that Din had nearly reached the island with his jetpack, but he hadn’t noticed himself on account of Boba being _highly_ distracting. 

“Hi, Din!” Luke called out cheerfully.

Din landed a few feet away in the sun-streaked sand, still fully armored and helmeted. He approached them and tilted his head, taking in the debauched picture they made. Luke was only a little flustered at Din being so dressed compared to how messy he and Boba were—both from the sex and from the ocean and sand. 

Unsurprisingly, Din’s visor had angled to focus on the hardness in Boba’s shorts. “Looks like I’m still needed for something around here.”

Luke chortled. Din’s dry humor always got to him. It carried the barest hint of vulnerability, mixed with genuine mirth. Din was well aware that he was the glue holding their tenuous relationship together. He was the one with the heart and the vision. Luke and Boba both gravitated towards him. He was the sun in their happy, little universe. The first love of each of them. Only recently, and at Din’s own behest, had Luke come to find he had room in his heart for another. Luke had been in love with Din for uncountable cycles. He was falling in love with Boba, too. 

Mushy thoughts parading around the afterglow in Luke’s mind, he strolled up to Din and embraced him, armor and all. The metal was hot to the touch, but not so hot it burned. Even if it was scalding, Luke would press himself to it all the same. “Din,” he murmured, hugging him. 

“Luke,” Din returned lovingly, but carefully unwound Luke’s arms. “I want you both back on the ship and rinsed off from all this sand and ocean muck. Take a water shower. And you,” he pointed to Boba’s shorts, “ _don’t_ lose that. I want you to fuck me.”

Boba gave Din a mock salute, curiously offered with only his middle finger, and Luke thought he caught him saying ‘lek, mand’alor’ under his breath. But he _was_ smiling. 

Din ignited his jetpack and launched into the air, flying back to their ship on the beach. 

“Race you back?” Luke offered Boba. 

“No thanks,” Boba declined. “Are you sure you can’t float me there with the Force? You heard him. I need to save my strength.”

Luke merely laughed and started running across the beach into the ocean. He dove into the sea. Boba swam after him.

Back on the ship, they showered together. Luke was already half-hard again, but they barely touched each other, trying to get as much of the sea spray off their bodies as possible. They didn’t bother to get dressed as they hunted down Din, who hadn’t done anything to get ready to make good on his threat/promise except take off his helmet. 

Thank the Force that Luke and Boba had stripping Din down to an efficient art.

Din was pliant between them. Luke and Boba kept their touches light and gentle. Din was sometimes still overwhelmed by the transition from his armor to nudity and sex all at once. Boba was rock hard by the time they finished getting Din naked. 

The three of them soon became a tangled mess of limbs and kisses. The large bed they fell into was a not-so-recent upgrade Din had brazenly ordered for the new ship that was ultimately well-received. It was put to good use now. 

At some point, Luke was on his back with Din on top of him. Boba was fucking into Din, while Luke and Din sloppily made out. Luke drank in every whine and moan that Boba’s thrusts ground out of Din’s lips. 

But Luke was desperate for more stimulation than Din’s pleasant grinding. He was open to the Force, deeply entrenched in his lovers’ feelings, and he craved the feeling of fullness wafting off of them. He wanted to fuck. 

He tapped in, making several insistent jabs at Boba’s ass until Boba got the message. Din was hauled up, while Luke bent his knees, planting them solidly on the mattress. He fumbled for the lube and spread it over himself. Din stared down at Luke with blown pupils as Boba helped him ease down onto Luke’s hard cock. 

“Luke,” Din gasped, adjusting to the different feel of Luke inside him, thinner but longer and able to go deeper. 

Luke thrust up into him, right where Boba had been. Something about that had Luke going _wild._

Boba helped steady Din, letting Luke fuck up into him with abandon. Luke managed to bring himself back from the brink and slow down his pace, tracing his hands up and down Din’s waist and sternum, grabbing his straining thighs, telling him how perfect it felt to be inside him. And then things were building again, as Luke lost himself in not just his own pleasure but theirs, too. 

Boba started pushing Din down onto Luke in time with Luke’s thrusts. Their bodies slapped together, and Boba was offering filthy encouragement to see whether Din or Luke would come first. 

It was Luke, as it often was. Boba’s complaints of the lack of tantric, hours-long Force-enhanced sex continued to fall on deaf ears. Luke tilted the blame back at Boba and Din. He also defended that youth (even comparative as it was) had its privileges, and with his short refractory period there was no incentive to hold out when he could just capture the feeling all over again in multiple rounds. 

Luke’s climax hit him hard. He pulled Din down across his chest to kiss him through it, muttering what he hoped were nice things but might have been nonsense. Din felt incredible around him. Always. 

Softened but still buzzing, Luke slipped free, and helped Din to a more stable position on his hand and knees. Boba then draped over Din, kissing his neck and pawing his ass. Luke scooted out from under them both to shakily make his way to the ‘fresher to grab a drink of water. He refilled the glass and brought it back with him to put at the bedside table. 

Luke watched Boba pound into Din from behind, admiring the way Boba’s ass flexed and jiggled when he thrust and the way Din flushed pink all over his chest, neck and face. There were half-moon fingernail indentations all over Din’s hips and shoulders, some Luke had put there tonight and some faded ones from days earlier. 

Luke drew closer and petted Boba’s thigh. “I want to suck him off,” he told him.

Boba grunted, and they managed to find a position where Luke could slide under Din and get his mouth around his cock. Luke relished the heavy weight of Din’s scent and shape on his tongue, and wondered how simple flesh and blood could be so precious to him despite being able to access higher planes of reality. Luke wouldn’t say those higher planes _paled_ to the experience of Din’s cock in his mouth, but certainly each had their merits. And right now, Luke should probably be thinking less and sucking more. 

And then Din was coming from the dual sensations Boba and Luke lavished on him. Luke immediately shot up to kiss Boba over Din’s shoulder, sharing Din’s seed with him and sucking on his tongue. And then Boba was jerking forward with a shout and coming, too. 

Boba and Din both collapsed in a heap on the bed. Luke reached for the glass of water and sipped it before sharing it with Boba. Din reached for it, too, complaining something about still being able to taste the sea salt on the skin. Boba assured him it was just human sweat, and they agreed to disagree. As for being so against even a grain of sand, Boba questioned whether Din could really swear he’d spent as much time on Tatooine as Boba and Luke had.

Luke brought a warm, damp towel from the ‘fresher and caressed Din with it, who moaned a little and pushed him away, even though Luke knew he’d appreciate it later. He let Din roll away and instead flopped into Boba’s open arms for cuddling and a swipe of the towel between their bodies as well. 

“Hi,” Luke greeted Boba contentedly. 

“Hey,” Boba said just as warmly. 

Boba welcomed closeness after sex just like Luke, which added a dynamic Luke really needed because he couldn’t bear to have any space between them too long after the high of orgasm passed. Maybe it was because of the way touch tethered him, preventing the boundless energy of the Force from carrying him up and away from his body and out of the moment. He wanted to stay _in_ the moment. He never begrudged Din feeling differently, and soon enough Din would be rejoining them. 

Now, Din was already turning on his side to take Luke’s cheeks in both hands and kiss him. “Ori'jate,” Din said. “Cyar’ike.”

Din leaned over Luke and kissed Boba deeply as well before lying down along Luke’s front, their legs and hands tangling together. On Luke’s other size, Boba’s breaths had evened out into a pattern of sleep. Luke watched as Din’s eyes fluttered shut, sated and wonderfully exhausted. 

Luke felt that too, along with gratitude for Din’s foresight—or greed, as Din liked to say—in throwing him and Boba together. If selfishness could lead to so much shared joy, then it couldn’t be all bad. Luke found that was generally true with most things. Balance. In the Force. In life. In relationships. Tempered with love, loyalty, and humor. 

**Author's Note:**

> Mando’a translations  
> Ehn = three  
> Mir’sheb = smartass  
> Mesh’la = beautiful  
> Jare = someone taking a fatal, foolish risk  
> Lek = yeah  
> Ori'jate = excellent  
> Cyar'ika = darling, sweetheart, beloved


End file.
